Umbra
by SevenOverThree
Summary: Umbra; noun; A phantom or shadowy apparition, as of someone or something not physically present; ghost; spectral image.  ::Originally several separate ideas and fics::
1. Prologue: Color

**DISCLAIMER**: I am not Lord Vasquez.

**AUTHORS NOTES**: I very much enjoyed writing this - got the idea listening to 'The War Was In Color', by Carbon Leaf, which you can find on Youtube. Not much else I can say without spoiling the ending.

I do apologize, however, for this being as short as it is - most of my stuff tends to be around double this length, but I like this as it is. Plus, chapter length should not determine quality straight-off.

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><p>It was late when he got there – later than what he'd agreed upon years ago with Johnny. Not that the maniac could intervene with his work, even if he wanted to. For one, Todd was a writer -of fantasy and science fiction and horror and romance... everything his mind could conceive-. The only way Johnny could make Todd's working life better was by shoving inspiration directly into his brain. And though Todd knew Johnny was capable of many things, generating inspiration was not one of them. Well, for his horror novels, it was, but he was writing a sci-firomance currently – definitely not Johnny's area of expertise.

"You're late." He heard Johnny say as the man appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Todd smiled, very used to this by now, placing the box he'd brought with him down onto the grass.

"I couldn't help it, Mr. Johnny" Todd said, still sounding like a child even at 24 years old. "Traffic was hell." This time, Johnny laughed.

"Like you would know."

"Like you _wouldn't_." And then things fell into routine – cliché questions that were asked every time, on every visit.

"So what's going on with you, Squeegee? You keeping fit, healthy? Safe? Still questioning sleep and avoiding the sickness of humanity as much as you can?" Todd nodded.

"Not much has happened this week." Todd started, sitting down, Johnny doing so as well. "Pepi has been busy with his dad a lot, and Shmee eats any mind monsters that come near me." Johnny rolled his eyes at the mention of Todd still having the bear from his childhood. The boy was twenty-four years old. Most people would have ditched their toys by now, but Todd was not most people. Thankfully. As much as he hated to admit it, that bear was saving Todd's life. "I've started talking walks around the city, and sleep comes to me only every other day, as usual. As for avoiding humans, I try. Can't do too much, what with my job involving interaction with them, but you know..." Both males were silent for a moment before the maniac spoke.

"Hey, Squee?" Johnny asked, gazing at his friend. "Am I scary?" Todd blinked, surprised by the question. Taking Todd's look as confusion, Johnny continued. "Like, when you were little, when I still lived in seven-seven-seven, did I scare you?" Todd looked down at the ground. This was an easy answer.

"... You did." He smiled. "You terrified me, even your best attempts at being friendly set me up for some seriously terrifying nightmares. When I managed to get to sleep at all." When he turned back to the maniac, he was not surprised to see him looking more than a little upset, staring at the grass. "But the thing is, as much as you scared me, Johnny... You were my only friend. Well, besides Pepito, but I didn't meet him for months, almost a year after you left town." Todd waved a hand dismissively at his own words, continuing. "Anyway... Johnny, you terrified me, but you were my only friend for the longest time." Todd smiled when the maniac man sitting next to him looked up, a happy look in his chestnut eyes, and the barest hints of a smile on his face. "And to be completely honest, you saved my life, more times than you know. That pedophile at the mall was the obvious one, sure, but whenever you took me out for food – I don't think you ever realized how little I actually ate."

"I did." Johnny said, nodding. "I knew your parents were fuckers, and I watched them. I knew they didn't feed you regularly, so when you didn't get to eat enough, I took you out." He turned to his friend. "It was the least I could do." Then Johnny's eyes caught sight of the box; the little, brown, weather-beaten and dusty thing that Todd had sitting close to him. "Whats that?" Todd grinned.

"I don't know for sure. But I found it in your old house – locked up behind a false wall covered in dried blood." Johnny's eyes widened. The Demon's wall? The one he'd always painted, it'd had something behind it _other_ than the monster? Something tangible and real and _his_?

Slowly, Johnny reached out to it, not paying attention to how Todd was watching him, how he looked eager, just as curious as Johnny to see what the box contained.

The box wasn't locked, but it was held shut by two clamps, rusty, and stiff from obvious disuse and neglect. Johnny had no idea what the Wall Monster could have possible seen fit to hide from him for so many years, but he was damn curious.

It took a few tries to get the clamps to open – that the box had been hidden behind a wall for who knew how many years, a wall that had been essentially saturated with blood and kept dripping wet for an equal amount of indiscernible length, made sure that the metal would be tough to move. But, open they eventually did. However, Johnny didn't lift the lid. Did he really want to know what his wall-monster had been hiding for so long? He looked to Todd, silently asking for his opinion.

"I think you should open it. I mean, seriously, what do you have to lose?" Todd gestured around them, and Johnny nodded slowly. Todd had a point. At this point in time, what _did_ he have to lose?

Slowly, the lid was lifted, revealing something odd in how ordinary it was – pictures. Photographs of varying age, letters, a few random items... It looked like some sort of time capsule. Todd looked to Johnny for answers, who seemed as lost as he was.

"I... I don't... None of this. I don't remember any of this, except..." He picked up a photograph. If Todd was right, it looked as though it was from Johnny's teenage years. _If_ that skinny black-haired kid off to the side was Johnny. He was surrounded by three people, two females, and one male. One of the girls was behind him, looking like she was attacking Johnny's hair, who was hunched over as he tried to get her to stop, trying to twist around and reach her. The second girl was standing in front of the other male, who was taller than she was by almost a foot. The male was holding the camera out, if the weird arm position was anything to judge by, and everybody was smiling. Even the younger Johnny.

"It looks like you." Todd commented, looking away from the picture and at his friend. Johnny remained still, not looking away from the image.

A few moments of silence, and something flickered behind Johnny's eyes – then he spoke.

"These people..." The maniac muttered quietly, touching a finger to the image. Johnny smiled faintly, seeming to take in the rest of the image. From Todd's point of view, they must have been Johnny's friends before everything happened to make him crazy. The maniac turned to look at Todd, appearing pleased. "Thank you Squee. I can't say I remember anything from... before, but if my Wall-Monster was hiding them, these things _must_ be precious to me." Todd nodded, standing up as he noticed the time – he had to go.

"Johnny, I-" But the maniac cut him off, waving a hand at his friend dismissively.

"Yes, yes. I know. You can't be seen having a conversation with empty space, can you?" He leaned against one of the many stones jutting from the ground. "People just don't like it when other people talk to the air. And you've got your novels, your... your due dates." Todd sighed, but was grinning.

"Johnny, you know just as well as I do that if I don't get the novels in on time, I don't get paid. And unlike you, I need to eat to live." Johnny waved his friend away, carefully closing the box and pulling it closer to the stone he had previously been leaning on.

"Shoo. Go live. I'll just sit here, watching my own corpse decay away. _Alone_." Todd raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"I'll bring you a freezie tomorrow? I know you don't need to eat, but..." The maniac's eyes lit up.

"Ooh! Make sure it's cherry!" A laugh, and Todd nodded, walking back towards where his car was parked.

"Definitely. See ya tomorrow, Nny!" Todd waved at his friend, looking back out at the graveyard and watching as the now semi-transparent maniac faded away into nothing again, leaving the space above his grave empty, the only signs somebody had been there being two impressions in the grass on the raised mound that signified where the coffin lay.

Todd didn't flinch at these things anymore – this was normal. And to be honest, he'd experienced far more weird and supernatural things than talking to the ghost of a serial killer.


	2. CH1: Worth

**DISCLAIMER**: I am not Lord Vasquez.

**AUTHORS NOTES**: The title of this chapter, and the inspiration for the main plot, was inspired by a line in one of the songs on my MP3 player. Unfortunately, by now I've forgotten what song it was completely and as I've got like, 400+ songs on my MP3 player, I'm fairly certain I'll never find it again.

Enjoy the second chapter of this oh-so-disjointed fanfic.

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><p>He never really expected anyone to visit his grave – the only one who knew exactly where his body lay was Squee, and the boy had been specifically told to not flaunt that knowledge. The killer had plenty of surviving victims that would have loved to abuse his body, and vandalize his headstone.<p>

In fact, Squee was the only person he knew that would have liked to visit him at all, and it made the now-dead maniac happy to know that the boy who's childhood he had unintentionally plagued with horror considered him a friend at _all_. But then, taking into account how many terrifying and highly paranormal things happened in Squee's life _without_ the maniac's involvement, he wasn't surprised.

He had been enjoying the heat of the the mid-day summer sun, sitting down and leaning back on his headstone when the car pulled up. It attracted his attention, as this graveyard wasn't a very well-known one – there were only twenty graves total in this place, many of them from the same family tree, despite being a public burial site.

He didn't recognize this particular vehicle; it wasn't Squee's, and he didn't recognize it from the various people who came here. It _was_ familiar to him, however, though he couldn't place where from.

"I'll just be a minute, Tenna." Johnny's eyes widened. No. No way. _She_ had found him, had found his final 'resting' place and come to him? Why? Fuck, she hated him, why the fuck would she decide to visit him!

The girl in question exited her car – he had been right, no doubt. _Devi_ was visiting his grave. But why?

Silent, Johnny watched as Devi walked up to him, staring up at her. She did the same, staring down at him, silent. "Hey Johnny." She said, after a few more moments of quiet. "How are you doing?" Johnny gaped, trying to answer her, but failing. The woman in front of him chuckled dryly, then spoke again. "That's alright, you don't have to say anything. Took me a while to find you, y'know. I don't think you realize just how hard it is to track down a man like yourself." Finally, Johnny spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"Fuck..." She muttered, sitting down in front of him. "I don't even know why I came. I only just got wind of your death. And you died... how many years ago? I suppose I came here because I wanted to hope you weren't really dead." Johnny shook his head.

"No, I'm dead as dead can be. Bored, though. But... why-?" Devi cut him off.

"I wanted to tell you that I think I finally understand why you did what you did on our date, way back when." Johnny remained quiet – she understood? "I remember that the recording you played to me over the phone mentioned a dough-boy, you seemed to imply he was some kind of head-voice." Johnny nodded.

"He was – there was Psychodoughboy, and Mr. Fuck. Two of them."

"Well, turns out whatever you had shipped some of itself to me." Johnny's eyes widened – no... No, he had made her a waste-lock? "I beat her, though. She tried to take my brain, but I stabbed her with a paintbrush and took her eyes out of her head. She's pinned to the painting canvas she came out of. I've been doing pretty well since then."

"That's good – I didn't mean to introduce you to my Wall Monster, Devi."

"She isn't dead, though... I don't know how to kill her." Johnny paused, staring at the girl who was now looking off in some other direction.

"I got rid of my Wall Monster by dying... I don't know if there is another way, but I hope you find it." There was an odd silence between the two of them – Johnny knew it should've been awkward, but couldn't help but be elated at Devi's presence at his grave.

"I'll think of something, I guess. I've always been pretty self-sufficient." They were both silent for a few moments more before Johnny spoke up, curious.

"So... how did you find me? I made sure that Squee knew not to tell anyone..." Devi groaned, sounding frustrated, and Johnny wondered vaguely why she was – he only wanted to know how she'd managed to find him.

"God, this is so _stupid_." He blinked, standing up and staring at her, confused at her reaction to his query - and mildly concerned. "I can't believe I'm even doing this." Johnny narrowed his eyes slightly, worried. What did she mean?

"I- I don't understand." He said to her, noticing that she was not meeting his gaze; her eyes continued to point downwards, at his headstone. Did she still hate him enough to not want to look at him? Or had he said something wrong?

"Alright, I'm done. I've said my thing. I hope you found what you were looking for after you left, Nny." Johnny opened his mouth, wanting to say something to make her stay longer but not knowing what fact or tidbit or opinion he should impart to her. If she still hated him, little to nothing would convince her to stay. And why would she? He was dead. A ghost. Why would anyone want to spend more time than was necessary conversing with the spirit of their attempted murderer?

He took in a breath, about to speak, when Devi cut him off. And what she said stopped him in his tracks, nearly shattering his heart. "I can't believe Tenna convinced me to talk to a rock."

"No..." She... _hadn't_ been talking to him? She _hadn't_ been able to see him, been able to perceive his current plain of existence? "Please, no..." He stood, moving slowly at first, then began to run. If she got off the lot before he could reach her... He couldn't move off of the lot, couldn't move that far away from his grave. She couldn't see him. But, perhaps...

"W-what?" Devi would have no idea what was happening – he had run up to her, and willing with all his might, grabbed onto her jacket. She could not see him. She could not hear him. But he could touch her – and he would not let her go. Not now, now that he finally had her this close to him.

"Please don't go!" He cried out, vainly hoping that the small amount of physical contact he was giving her would somehow allow her to see or hear him. One or the other would be good – both would be perfect. Devi was staring, horrified, at the sight of an invisible hand gripping her jacket – she turned her gaze from her coat, to Johnny's grave, and swallowed – then spoke.

"L-let go." She stammered. Ignoring his predicament and her inability to perceive him, he shook his head, holding onto her coat with a second hand. Devi took in a quick, shuddering gasp, her emerald eyes wide with fear. She had not expected anything like this.

Quickly, Johnny began to think. What could he do? What could he possibly do to convince her to stay, without needing to keep a grip on her coat?

On a whim, he moved a hand from the bottom of her coat to her wrist – Devi let out a quiet cry of fear – and he led her hand to the gravestone, brushing her fingers across his name. Devi's eyes widened. "Johnny...?" Knowing she couldn't see him, he tightened his grip for a moment. The best form of 'yes' he could give her. For a moment, Johnny wished that Squee could come today – he'd mentioned he'd be busy all day today. Having him here would have made talking with Devi so much easier.

Then, her gaze hardened.

"Johnny, let me go."

"I can't. Not yet." He wished desperately that she could hear him.

"I've already said my thing, Johnny. Let. Go." Suddenly, an idea came to Johnny's mind. The dirt! He could draw words in the dirt! He rushed over to some newly turned earth in the graveyard, pulling the still-living girl along with him. He wouldn't have much more energy if he kept contact with her like this. Ghosts only had so much energy that they could use for solidity and communication; if he used too much of it, it would be difficult for even Squee to see or hear him – and Johnny would wind up like so many ghosts before him; without any means of communication.

Reaching down, Johnny dragged a finger through the dirt – he wrote two words.

'_Please stay_' Devi took in a sharp breath, but otherwise remained silent. Johnny tightened his grip once more.

'_Please_' He wrote again. Physical contact with living creatures was tough, especially extended like he was doing - he had to stop. Taking in a largely unneeded breath, Johnny released her.

And she stayed.


End file.
